On a Very Special Arthur
by 8inchCaliper
Summary: Brain has a serious crush… but on whom?
1. Chapter 1

On a Very Special Arthur… 

Pairing: Brain?

Summary: Brain has a serious crush… but on whom?

Rating: PG13 (for now)

Author's note: I'm a big fan of Arthur – but I'm also a big ol' slasher. If slash (m/m ships) offends, do not read.

Arthur sits in the third row and Alan (also known as Brain) sits behind him. As Mr. Ratburn scribbles fractions on the board, Arthur tries to wrap his ten-year-old mind around the fact that Alan is in love. There'd been the whispers and rumors and the usual poking fun – and it's true, Brain is sorta more mature than the rest of the kids, but Alan had cornered Arthur in the hallway and practically had an asthma attack as he blushed and told Arthur of his current dilemma.

"You can't tell anyone, Arthur. You have to promise. I dunno what to do." Brain had whispered breathlessly. His face was flushed and his pupils dilated. Arthur had thought it was a joke at first, but Brain, who was generally calm and collected, had seemed near tears. What advice could Arthur offer? He'd never been in love himself and hoped it would never happen to him.

"Um…who is it?" The Aardvark had inquired cautiously, hoping to God it wasn't Muffy Crosswire or some other intolerable girl in their class, but Alan had shut his eyes and seemed to turn a new shade of red. He'd backed away, covering his mouth with both hands as if Arthur had just made some serious social blunder. He'd taken off down the hall leaving Arthur to wonder after him.

Now they sit in class as Ratburn teaches, and Arthur can feel Alan nervously tapping his feet behind him as they repeatedly bump his chair. Several times, Arthur turns to glare at Alan only to have him stop briefly and start back up again. Arthur lets his mind wander to whom it could be that Alan is so taken with, but then Ratburn calls on him to answer a math question and Arthur stares blankly to the front of the room.

"Excuse me, sir. I… I dunno…"

"Sure you do, Mr. Read." Ratburn answers in a chipper voice. "This very problem was on your homework."

Desperately, Arthur turns to link eyes with Alan as he mouths the word, 'help', and Alan mouths back the answer, three fourths.

"Three fourths 'sir?" Arthur murmurs.

"Thank you, _Alan_." Ratburn says sarcastically. "Arthur, if I wanted Alan to answer I would have called on Alan."

"Yes, sir." Arthur says sheepishly.

"And just so you know, answer-sharing is also known as cheating. Another instance of this, boys, and I'll be forced to hold you both after class."

Arthur feels Alan jerk behind him and let out a little sob of anxiety as Ratburn goes back to the board.

After class, Arthur dumps his things in his locker before heading out into the schoolyard to be met with Binky and a few of his other goons. Luckily, Francine is there to deflect whatever threats they may dish out and offers to walk Arthur at least to the library. On the way home, Francine complains about the amount of homework they have as Arthur listens and shrugs.

"Hey Francine, have you noticed anything…weird…about Brain?"

Almost as soon as Arthur says it, he regrets it. Francine turns her intense stare onto Arthur.

"He told you something, didn't he? Don't lie, Arthur, I can see it written all over your face!"

"Uhh…no! No, he didn't tell me anything. I just …wondered if you noticed anything is all."

"Yea, I noticed something alright. I noticed he's been a total zombie for like weeks. I'd think he hit his head or something, but his grades are still pretty good." She takes a pause to consider. "Did you see the look on his face when Ratburn yelled at you guys, though? I thought he was going to lose his lunch or something."

"I can't imagine what's up with him." Arthur mumbles, playing dumb.

"Well, the rumor is he's in love – with Prunella."

Arthur makes a face before he can stop himself. "Prunella? Are you sure? She doesn't really seem like… his type."

Francine shrugs. "I dunno. They seem pretty good for each other, if you ask me. I just wish he would stop drooling in class. It turns my stomach just looking at him." She looks up ahead for a bit. "Well, we're at the library. See ya tomorrow, Arthur."

"Uh huh…" Arthur walks the rest of the way home half in a daze and half baffled at the prospect of anyone 'liking' Prunella.

Later that night, Arthur gets a call from Brain.

"I need your help, Arthur."

"Geez, Brain." Arthur yawns. "Do you know what time it is? My Dad's gonna kill…"

"This is gonna sound weird, but you have to help me, Arthur."

Arthur wipes sleep from his eyes and yawns again. "I don't know anything about love."

"Well, that's the problem, Arthur. Me neither. I wrote a love note…"

"Ugh! God, Brain please don't make me listen to it. I don't think I can take it."

"But you're the only one I can tell… it's…it's not who you think. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Um…alright…just….calm down, Brain. I'll…uh…read your note for you tomorrow if… if you want."

"You will?" Brain seems delighted. Arthur can hear him smiling through the phone. "Gosh, thanks, Arthur. And I hope you'll keep an open mind. I mean, its not what you think. I know everyone thinks its Prunella, but it isn't."

"Thank God." Arthur murmurs. "She's just so…"

"Icky…" Brain says before both boys break out into a laugh and Arthur says he has to hang up now or his parents will come and yell at him to go to bed.

Next morning, Arthur is hard pressed to find a secret spot where he can read Brain's 'love note' to whoever. He hopes he can read it and finally find out who its addressed to, but every time he thinks he has found a quiet spot, someone comes asking him to play kick-ball or wanting him to sit with them at lunch or work on a project with them or something.

Finally, during afternoon class, Arthur takes out the note and slips it underneath his book. Slowly, as Mr. Ratburn goes over his geography lesson, Arthur lets his eyes roam down to the note on his desk and reads it from start to finish, mouth agape from the very first line:

_Dearest Nigel,_

_For the first time in my life, I am at an utter loss for words. My feelings cannot be explained, nor can they be ignored. The truth is, I feel that I am in love with you._

_I adore you. The mere sound of your voice – even the way you snap at me, excites_

_me to no end. I know you cannot reciprocate, but I needed to let you know. _

_Always,_

_Your secret admirer_

Arthur gasps out loud as Mr. Ratburn fixes his stern gaze on him.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Read?"

Arthur gapes, feeling his ears warm to match the heat of his cheeks. "Uh… no….nothing. Sorry."

"Are you certain? You look unwell."

"I'm fine, sir." Arthur slips the note slowly underneath his book, licking his suddenly dry lips.

Behind him, Brain kicks the back of his seat, making Arthur jump and without thinking; Arthur reaches to hand the note back to him, in a state of shock.

"Mr. Read, are we passing notes?"

Brain gasps audibly as Ratburn approaches Arthur whose hand is in midair with the note between his shaking fingers. The rat takes the note and holds it up as Sue Ellen giggles across from them and Binky snickers.

"Shall I share this with the class?"

"NO!" Brain shouts as Ratburn turns to glance at him.

"No?" Ratburn raises his brows.

"Please, sir, don't." Brain says in a small voice. His head is hung low on his chest as the bell rings.

As the other kids file out, Mr. Ratburn addresses the two boys. "Alan and Arthur, please remain in your seats. I want to have a word with you."

Arthur sits shaking in his chair, but its nothing compared to Brain; frankly, he looks as though he might pass our. His skin is white with anxiety.

Ratburn goes to the front of the room and reads over the note as both boys look on in horror. The instructor scrunches his eyebrows, but otherwise remains straight-faced. When he looks up at the boys, his face is mostly neutral.

"Who wrote this?" His voice is even and calm as it rings through the mostly empty classroom.

"It was a joke!" Arthur bursts out. "Um… Binky told us to do it on a dare, and I was just showing it to Brain to proofread when you –"

"It's okay, Arthur." Alan stands up and faces the front of the room. "You don't have to cover for me anymore."

"What are you saying, Alan?" Ratburn's voice is impossibly soft.

"I'm saying I wrote it." Brain looks as though he may faint. "It was me."

Ratburn regards the youth for a time before addressing Arthur, his eyes never leaving Brain.

"You may go, Arthur."

Arthur only hesitates briefly before grabbing his satchel and exiting through the door, his ears hot with anxiety and wonder. What will happen to Brain now?

Tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

Brain stares at the front of the room, barely standing as Ratburn regards him, trying to consolidate his thoughts. Most likely, he should bring this matter to the school counselor, however; maybe it would only worsen things to mention it to someone else. Brain seems unable to breathe properly as Ratburn addresses him cautiously.

"Uh, Alan, I…" he pauses. "I think you should have a chat with the school counselor. He can better…um…help you with this."

Brain shakes his head, still not looking at Ratburn. "If it's okay with you, sir, I'd rather not mention it to anyone." His eyes rise shyly to meet Ratburn's. "In fact, can we just forget it ever happened?"

The teacher sighs and perches on the edge of his desk in front of the Brain, watching him quake in his shoes.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." He says in a most understanding voice. "Perhaps it might help if you could confide in someone. Someone who might help you."

"I don't need any help, sir." Alan murmurs.

"Well," Ratburn shrugs. "Maybe, if you're…confused… about anything…"

"Oh, I'm not confused." Brain says in a confident voice. "I know exactly how I feel. I've done research – in the library and online. I know what I'm feeling is valid and I'm not a bad person and all that. I've called the hotlines and reexamined my earliest relationships with the men in my life, etcetera. I've done all the leg work, sir…"

"Indeed…" Ratburn says breathily, somewhat taken aback.

"Yes." Brain sighs. "So, its not a matter of confusion, however I am a bit dismayed at the object of my affections. I mean, it would have been a bit easier if I had fallen for someone more appropriate, Arthur or even Buster, but it was you….sir…"

"Me." Ratburn says to himself. "Alan, I don't know what to…"

"It's alright, Mr. Ratburn. I hope I haven't caused any…inconvenience to you. or…discomfort…"

Both Ratburn and Alan blush gently against the pale yellow light in the room. Ratburn goes to the board and busies himself with erasing it while Alan gets to his desk and starts to shove books into his bag. Occasionally his eyes peek up to watch the back of his teacher as he arranges the chalk in the tray and the erasers. He can't help the way he feels, but he'd much rather deal with this on his own.

"So, I guess I'll…go home now." Brain says moving to exit.

"Sure." Ratburn says, still a bit preoccupied. "Oh, um…Alan?"

Brain pivots to meet Ratburn's gaze. "Yes, Mr. Ratburn?"

"No more notes, okay?"

Brain nods, forcing himself not to run screaming in embarrassment. "No more notes."

Later at home, Alan sits down to his desk to write a note to his mother, informing her that he's preparing to run away from home. He stares at the blank paper, however, and shakes his head slowly. No words will come. His mother wouldn't take him seriously anyway. Instead, he starts to write about his teacher, Nigel Ratburn, starts to construct a kind of non-rhyming sonnet, just a tumble of words expressing adoration for the instructor. It's all the things Brain wishes he could say to the man's face, but that wouldn't turn out well. Not only is Brain unsure of Ratburn's sexual proclivities, but also he'd never allow himself to be seduced by an eleven-year-old student. That much is brutally apparent.

Reluctantly Brain abandons the idea of running away but instead devises a sure-fire way to avoid, at all costs, more contact with Ratburn – even if it means calling himself off sick for the next several weeks until the teacher forgets the whole ordeal ever took place.

At home, Nigel Ratburn grades fifth grade math tests, scanning the papers and indicating with a bright red pen, the wrong answers. He crosses his legs at the ankles, first rubbing his heel with the toe of his sock. Friday nights are always rather relaxing for the rat, but he chooses to get his grading done first thing so the rest of his weekend is free to work on his marionettes and other projects.

The whistle of the kettle lets him know his water is ready for tea and he pushes aside his stack of work, leafing them to remember his place, before padding into the kitchen.

His favorite mug is the one made of earthenware, sort of terra cotta, like a planter – but blue. He always pours the water first before dunking the little pouch of tea in, watching satisfied as the water turns Earl Gray brown. He sighs contentedly as he absently scratches his chin with his thumbnail. His mind wanders to all corners of his life, his mortgage payment, his puppet show on Saturdays for the children's burn unit at the hospital, his mother's potluck at the Presbyterian Church next Wednesday night, his brake pads. It all seems so mundane – and yet Nigel prefers it that way, a simple, organized life with nothing and no one standing in to muck it all up. Then again, it occasionally breathes new life into his days to have something unexpected happen. For instance, this little incident with Brain won't seem to dissipate from his mind.

How could such a young boy have such a serious crush on him? HIM of all people! And how is it that Brian seems so well equipped to deal with it? Why does he seem to have such a firm understanding of it all? Ratburn can vaguely remember being eleven years old and not having any idea where babies came from or at least thinking they came from kissing, perhaps. He'd never have entertained the thought of having a crush on a MALE teacher. Well, certainly not _then_. Of course, college was an entirely different story.

As he sips the hot tea, he feels himself blush at the thought of his first male crush on a professor in college. Incidentally, he'd been too afraid to face that head on then – and he couldn't fathom having to face it now. He's always been a loner and now it's pretty much the same. Its just less complicated to be alone, to have no one to answer to for anything.

Brain is actually an excellent student, Nigel thinks to himself errantly. In fact, he would even venture to say he's quite fond of the boy, but it could never escalate to anything beyond that. It'd be a sin and a crime – and Nigel isn't prepared to ruin his life – nor Alan's. Certainly not for this. Nigel cares for his students – but in a fatherly way… or so he hopes.

Still, it's intriguing to think that he could have such a profound effect on someone. It's intriguing, indeed.

In school the following Monday, Arthur notices Alan's absence.

"Hey Francine." Arthur calls to his friend in the hall. "Have you seen Brain?"

Francine shrugs one shoulder. "No. But I'm more worried about the grammar test today."

"Oh crap." Buster moans. "I forgot about that."

"Well," Francine smirks. "Maybe if you didn't spend your whole weekend with your hand inside a potato chip bag staring mindlessly at Bionic Bunny, you might actually be prepared."

Buster frowns. "And it was pretzels…"

Muffy approaches the group with her usual air of superiority as she flashes her capped white teeth.

"Hello all. Are we prepared for Ratburn's grammar test?"

"Not exactly." Buster stares up at the ceiling as if hoping for a little help from the heavens.

"It's not like Brian to be late for a test." Arthur murmurs as he shuffles into the classroom behind the others.

"Well, there's still time." Francine says as she gets to her desk. "The bell doesn't ring for another…"

The ringing bell interrupts her as Ratburn enters the class and shuts the door behind him. He seems chipper as usual in his brown slacks and olive green blazer. He straightens his red tie and glances around the room at his students, not missing the fact that Alan is absent. His expression doesn't change, however, as he sets his books and pens and pencils on his desk and addresses his students.

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning Mr. Ratburn." They all answer, taking out their work folders and pencils.

"First things first: attendance."

As he calls attendance, they all answer accept Brain and Arthur's eyes rove over Brain's empty desk. He can't help but feel a pang of concern because Brain is never late and he has NEVER been absent. He wonders if Ratburn suspended Brain for that little note incident on Friday. Then again, that would seem a bit harsh to the Aardvark. Ratburn only responds that way to disobedience and laziness. Brain's situation was hardly any of those, but Arthur can't be sure how Ratburn would have responded to it.

During recess, Ratburn enters the lounge and eats his lunch of minestrone soup and fruit juice as the other teachers chat and gripe and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. On the table in front of him is a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, but he isn't reading it so much as pretending to read. In actuality, he's obsessing over Alan and wondering if the boy is okay. The secretary marked him as absent after 'someone' called him off, but Ratburn suspects something deeper...

Outside, the kids play foursquare and do chalk drawings as Binky climbs the jungle gym with his other hood friends.

Francine and Arthur discuss the grade they got on the grammar test as Buster snacks from a bag of gummi worms.

"Oh well, there's always next time." Buster shrugs as Arthur tosses the ball to Francine.

"Do you think Brain is sick or something?" Francine asks.

"Dunno." Arthur answers. "He seemed fine on Friday."

"Did you talk to him on the weekend?"

Arthur shakes his head. "No. Not really. He's usually busy on Saturdays and Sundays."

Francine shrugs. "Weird."

When the final bell rings, all the kids file out except for Arthur who packs his bag extra slowly. He doesn't know why, but it seems urgent that he inquires after Brain. Ratburn might know something, after all.

The teacher is busy packing his things into his satchel and erasing the board when he notices a presence behind him.

"Oh." He turns to regard the little aardvark. "Hello, Arthur. Did you need something?"

Arthur suddenly feels his nerve slipping away. There's just something about Ratburn that's so intimidating. "Uh…um…well, sir I wondered if … if you knew anything about Brain. I mean… is he okay?"

Ratburn shrugs. "Actually, your guess is as good as mine, Arthur."

"So, he's not sick or anything?"

"I really don't know. Someone called him off, but it didn't seem urgent."

"Okay, thanks."

"If I hear anything I'll let you know."

"Okay."

Later as Ratburn is leaving the building for the night, the sky opens up and begins to pour down raining. He dashes to his car, slinging his bag into the backseat before starting the car and turning the heat on full blast. He gives his brakes an experimental push and hears the subtle squeak that doesn't sit right with him.

As he pulls away from the parking lot, he squints through the foggy windows as he turns onto the street and goes past the blocks leading away from the school, passing neighborhoods until he gets to a clearing. He suddenly has to put his brakes on as he slides to a screeching halt in front of the blurry figure.

Putting the car in park, he slides out and goes around to where the boy is standing, still trembling.

"Mr. Ratburn…" Brain is soaked to the bone, water streaming down his face.

"Alan, what on Earth are you doing out here?" Ratburn instinctively checks the boy for injury. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. Thank you. I was just… I was…" His face is pale and his eyes are red, but Nigel can't tell if he's been crying, not with all the water.

"Well, get in. I'll take you home." Ratburn jogs around to open the door for the boy.

Brain stays where he is. "No. I don't want to go home."

"What? Why not?"

"You'll tell them. I know you will."

"Alan, I assure you, I…"

"Just go. Leave me here. I'll find my own way."

"I'll do no such thing." Ratburn pushes his wet hair from his eyes, getting exasperated at the rain. "Listen, if you won't go home, then at least get into the car so we can figure something out, alright?"

Brain hesitates briefly before complying with his teacher.

Once both of them are inside, Ratburn turns to glance at the boy.

"So, I take it you weren't home sick today."

"You take it correctly, sir." Brain looks down at his soaked sneakers.

"You called yourself off from school, then?"

Brain shakes his head, still looking down. "I paid a homeless guy five dollars to do it."

Ratburn sighs. "Alan, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to consort with…"

"You're not my father." Brain says in a quiet but angry voice. "I don't need a lecture right now."

Ratburn goes silent before clearing his throat. "Right. I suppose you have a point."

Rain continues to slap against the windshield as Ratburn turns the heat up a notch. Brain's clothes are sticking to his wet skin. Nigel doesn't really know how to proceed. The boy doesn't want to go home, but he surely can't come home with him! It'd be stepping over some invisible line – especially knowing how the boy feels.

"Your parents will be worried."

Brain nods. "I know. I just…I can't go home right now. I'm…afraid to face them."

"Why? Have you…I mean… do they know?"

"I didn't tell them. I can't."

Ratburn flicks on the wipers and turns to glance at Brain, feeling utterly conflicted. Maybe the boy is confused, and maybe the idea of coming to his house won't appeal to him after all. "Well, we can't just sit here in the road forever. I guess…you'll have to come home with me."

Brain turns his face away, but Nigel can see his ears as they turn red before his eyes. Hopefully the boy will protest and Nigel can simply drop him off at home, but to his dismay, Alan calls his bluff.

"Sure. Alright."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Ratburn's house is exactly what Brain would have expected. It's cozy but somehow a bit larger than one man would need. The boy stands in the threshold shivering as Nigel drops his satchel by the door and disappears into another room. When he returns, he is holding a t-shirt with faded resort logo on the front. He shrugs and extends it to Brain.

"I know you must be freezing. You can…wear this for now."

Brain takes it and turns his back, shedding his own wet shirt and pulling the much larger one over him. Ratburn goes to the thermostat to turn the heat up before coming back to stand a distance away from Brain.

"Can I get you anything? I have plenty of tea… or hot cocoa if you'd rather."

Brain shakes his head. "No thanks."

Ratburn seems at a loss for words as he stands and regards the boy. "Um, listen, Alan…"

"I already know what you're going to say."

"Well, then you'll know that I have to call your parents and let them know you're here. Anything short of that and I'm considered a kidnapper – or worse."

"Will you tell them you brought me from school with you?"

Ratburn considers the boy. "I can't lie to them, Alan. Incidentally… why did you cut class today? That's not like you."

"You have to ask?" Brain's cheeks pink underneath the soft light of Ratburn's kitchen.

"Well, I'm a little curious."

The boy hesitates momentarily. "Well… I…I couldn't face you after Friday. I thought maybe you thought I was some kind of…freak or something. I thought maybe you didn't want to see me."

"That's simply not true. I haven't given it much thought. I mostly worried that you were okay."

Brain exhales slowly, not even realizing he'd been holding his breath. "You don't hate me?"

Ratburn shakes his head. "On the contrary, Alan. I think…very highly of you."

Several seconds pass as the silence stretches between them and then Alan lowers his eyes to the carpet. "I meant what I said – in the letter. I…have…feelings… for you."

Now Ratburn gets an odd look on his face – like someone tightening a noose round his neck.

:"I think I should call your parents now." He moves towards the phone, but Brain follows closely behind him.

"Don't you have a response to that, sir? I mean…"

"Maybe you should dial them yourself." Ratburn hands the receiver to Alan, hoping to avoid discussing this any further with him directly.

Brain holds the phone in his hand, gazing up into Ratburn's pained orbs.

"Why can't you say anything about it?"

Ratburn shrugs, laughing nervously. "There's really nothing to say…"

"I like you. I want to…I want you to…"

Feeling his ears redden from anger and embarrassment, Ratburn turns and stalks away from the boy. Stubbornly, Brain follows.

When Ratburn enters his bedroom, he is startled to see the boy behind him.

"What the h…" He takes a pause, regarding the boy. "Alan, what are you doing in my bedroom?"

"I want to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about." Ratburn shrugs dismissively. "You're a child."

Brain makes a face. "Yea – but if you weren't my teacher…"

"You'd still be a child, Alan. I don't want to do this. I want you to go home. I'm going to call your parents and I'm going to tell them to come and pick you up. Okay?"

Brain nods, resigned. "Okay. Fine."

Ratburn nods also, glad the boy is complying. "Good. Thank you. Now, please go wait in the other room. I'll be just a minute."

Brain backs away slowly, his eyes never leaving his instructor until he is down the hallway. Ratburn takes a moment to compose himself, wondering just how far the boy would've been willing to take this, just to what extremes he'd have gone. The thought makes a cold chill traverse up his spine.

When Ratburn goes back into the living room, he is dismayed to find that the boy has gone. Ratburn's t-shirt with the faded resort logo is thrown over the couch and there is no sign of the boy except for his wet sneaker prints. Nigel knows he shouldn't feel responsible, but somehow he does. Heaven help him, he does.

Next morning in class, the students are all crowded around Brain as he explains why he was out.

"Binky thought you had died." Francine says matter-of-factly.

"Did not." Binky snorts. "Definitely maimed, though."

"I was sick." Brain says simply, faking a slight smile. Only Arthur seems to notice how pale his skin is surrounding darkened eyes.

"You don't look so good." Arthur murmurs. "Did you go to the doctors?"

Brain nods. "Yeah – just to get medicine, though. I stayed there so long I missed my favorite episode of Mr. Wizard. My mom promised she'd get me the collection on DVD, though."

"Oh, cool." Buster chimes in. "Did you see the one where he proved that they use real actual cold fusion technology for Bionic Bunny?"

"Uh…" Brain shrugs. "…I think so."

"Please, take your seats, class." Ratburn interrupts the students in his usual chipper voice, not acknowledging Brain as he walks past. The kids all seat themselves and Arthur glances between Brain and Ratburn, searching for signs of anything amiss.

"First things first: attendance."

Brain busies himself with arranging his things on his desk as Ratburn calls their names, one by one.

Brain sits in his seat, afraid to meet his teacher's eyes as he begins to teach his morning math lesson. He isn't taking anything in, of course. He is too busy trying to keep his trembling down to a minimum and trying not to fantasize about having been inside Ratburn's actual house, inside his bedroom!

By the time lunch rolls around, the kids are ready for it – and nobody moreso than Brain. He has been shaking all morning, terrified of someone else knowing his secret and terrified that Ratburn will hate him. He's positive he angered him by leaving that way last night, but when he got home, he was better able to explain to his parents, in his own words, why he was so late.

Now, he's sitting at the lunch table with Arthur, holding his peanut butter sandwich like a prop. He isn't actually hungry and he is so distracted that Arthur has to call his name more than two times to get his attention and Francine finally kicks him under the table, making him cry out.

"That hurt!" Brain furrows his brows, rubbing his leg to stop the smarting.

"Well, I've never seen you so distracted." Francine huffs. "What's your problem? Did you get a lobotomy at the doctors or what?"

"Hey Brain." Arthur interrupts. "Wanna play tether ball?"

Brain shrugs and tosses his lunch in the garbage bin as he follows Arthur out to the playground.

Arthur is neither good at tetherball nor interested in playing games right now, but the tetherball court is sort of secluded and they'll have more privacy to talk.

"So, what's up with you, Brain? I've never seen you like this."

Brain shrugs, and to Arthur's horror his eyes fill with water. "It's all falling apart. I don't know what to do."

"Um…w-what do you mean?" Arthur turns away from Brain as if the sight of him crying is obscene.

Brain shrugs, not bothering to wipe his tears. "I dunno. Ratburn hates me. I don't care about school. I don't care about anything. I just want to die."

"Don't say that." Arthur says, kicking a pebble with the toe of his sneaker. "You don't mean that."

"You don't know anything, Arthur. That's your problem. That's _everyone's_ problem. You guys are all babies. You don't know what love is or anything outside of kickball and Bionic Bunny." Brain takes a pause to really look at Arthur. "I know you're trying to help me, but just don't. Just leave me alone, okay."

Arthur, baffled and hurt, looks at his friend one last time and trudges away. He gets to the other side of the building and doesn't notice Ratburn approaching until he almost collides with him.

"Oh, sorry sir." He takes a step back.

"Is Brain out here?" The man asks in a serious tone as Arthur nods and points towards the other side of the playground.

"He's there, being a jerk."

"Thanks." The rat brushes past Arthur as the Aardvark goes to where Francine and the others are playing hopscotch.

When Ratburn finds Brain, the boy is isolated behind the old bleachers sobbing to himself, hugging his knees and staring blindly off into oblivion.

"Alan…" Ratburn inquires in a soft voice.

"Go away." Alan blubbers, not facing his teacher. "I'd r-rather deal w-with this alone, thanks."

Ratburn stands at a distance, observing the boy and sighing quietly.

"Brain, I want to help you."

Brain shakes his head, not believing it, but he feels so overwhelmed right now, so close to the edge of reason, he doesn't even realize what he's doing while he's doing it. Instinctively, he rights himself and saunters over to Ratburn, eyes spilling over, and throws his arms around the man, burying his face in his chest, feeling as though he has come home. And Ratburn, in turn, cradles the boy gently to him, murmuring words of comfort into his mussed hair. In that instant, when Brain feels the strong heartbeat pounding through the both of them, he knows, at least for the moment, that everything will be alright.

Tbc…


	4. Chapter 4

Finally part 4 is here.

I should warn, there is some dubious consent here, but I am reluctant to change the rating. It's not what you think.

That said, enjoy!

4

In the dream, Brain is resting on the outdoor lounge in his parents' backyard, but he knows they aren't there – not just because he can't see them, but he just has a feeling. Its hazy out here and sunny and Brain is anticipating something, but he doesn't know what. He's giddy and taut – like a bowstring.

_When he hears the soft sound of footfall on grass he turns his head and his face lights up into a wide grin. It's Nigel, his teacher, his mentor, his friend. _

"_Hello, Alan." He says in his deep pensive voice, and Brain gets that funny feeling low in his belly, that grown up feeling that makes him squirm a bit in his chair. _

"_Hi, Mr. Ratburn." He says in a voice barely above a whisper as the rat slowly approaches him. He has a look of foreboding in his deep eyes, but he continues ahead, getting to within arms length of his student before he stops. _

"_Please…sir…" Brain isn't sure what he wants or what he hopes will come of it, but he is pleading for something. "…please..."_

"_You don't know what you're asking for." Nigel says in a sad voice full of regret and maybe a tinge of longing. "You have no idea…"_

"_Don't underestimate me." Brain demands. "I swear to God…"_

"_Stop." Ratburn says, weary. "Alan, I can't. I won't."_

_When Brain turns away, his friends are playing on the school jungle gym, having innocent fun, laughing and being child-like, and they are oblivious to Brain and his woes. When he turns back to look at Ratburn, he is farther away._

"_Don't leave me." Brain lets out a high-pitched sob. "Don't leave me, Nigel. I'm not finished with this yet."_

_Nigel smiles slowly and speaks his name softly. "Alan… Alan…."_

_In his head, the voice gets louder and louder, repeating his name over and over until it is a shrill cry and Brain wakes with a start as his mother calls his name._

"ALAN!"

"What the…"

"It's school today, young man. My Goodness, I've never seen you like this."

"I was dreaming." Brain says as his mother moves about his room, tossing dirty clothes into the hamper and haphazardly straightening his normally neat room. He gasps softly as he shifts beneath the blankets and feels the odd throbbing in his pajama pants.

_Oh My God_, he thinks to himself_. This can't be happening to me. Not now._

"Well, Brain, aren't you going to get up? You're running late already and if you want breakfast, well…"

"Um, mom, could you please…um…" Brain tries to think of something quick. "Could you give me a minute? Alone?"

She eyes him suspiciously. "Well, alright, but you better be getting ready, mister."

When she turns to exit his room, she slams the door behind her leaving a blushing Brain sitting up in his bed, looking down at the slight protrusion beneath the blanket. Could that really have been considered a wet dream? It seemed more like a prophetic sort of foretelling…

Later, in school, Brain takes his seat behind Arthur and rests his head on the desk. Arthur comes in and takes one look at his friend before shaking his head, slowly.

"Maybe you should talk to someone about this." He whispers. "It's eating you alive. And everyone notices how weird you've been acting."

"Shut up, Arthur." Brain mumbles without bothering to lift his head.

"I'm just trying to be helpful. No need to snap at me."

After a moment of pondering this, Brain lifts his head to look up into Arthur's round orbs beneath his wire-rimmed glasses.

"Sorry, Arthur. I'm an idiot."

Arthur snorts. "Yeah, maybe a little…"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Just stop apologizing already. Wanna sit together at lunch?"

Brain nods, forcing a smile. "Sure, why not?"

When Ratburn comes in, Brain follows him with his eyes, replaying the memory of having been cradled in his warm strong embrace, having smelled his aftershave so close to him, and having almost tasted his fear. So close. Brain absently licks his lips as the man rummages through his satchel. He seems quieter today than usual.

"Well, class," Ratburn skips the good morning. "I was somewhat disappointed in the overall math scores from last Friday. After all, we did several skill-building worksheets together and even did the computer exercises to get you ready. I don't know what happened, but frankly, we need to work harder."

Walking through the rows of desks, Ratburn carries the stack of papers in his hand as he drops them on their owner's desks, face down so as not to reveal their scores to their neighbor, granting them that small privacy.

He barely acknowledges Brain when he drops his paper on his desk and continues past in his stoic manner. Brain swallows hard and turns his paper over to see the scribbled 100 in red ink. Brain knew he'd done well, but he'd kind of hoped for a bad grade so he would have an excuse to stay after.

Ratburn teaches the rest of the day in a kind of 'off' way. He lets the students answer problems on the board and read aloud and he takes a backseat, seemingly distracted at his desk as the students have at it. He barely speaks much during the entire lesson and he seems subdued and somewhat anxious. Weird for Ratburn.

After school, Brain waits near the parking lot, watching from a distance as all his friends file gleefully out of the building. He'd give anything to be as young and oblivious as they are, to be troubled with stupid non-important issues like whether or not to play baseball or kickball or watch Bionic Bunny or Crazy Bus. He'd give anything to not have this weight pressing down on him like it is – but what can he do?

When he finally sees Ratburn going towards his car, he jogs over to him. Nigel turns to acknowledge him with a slight frown, but his voice sounds so weighted when he speaks.

"Alan."

"I know you don't want to, but could you please just listen to me."

Ratburn exhales deeply. "I will always listen to you. It's the least I can do."

"I love you."

"I'm going away, Alan." Nigel says softly, ignoring Brain's statement. "I can't do this any longer."

"I just wanted to tell you that I won't bother you with it anymore." Brain pauses. "Where are you going?"

"Away." Nigel opens his door and tosses his satchel inside as Brain looks on with wide eyes.

"Where? Is it because of me?"

"It's no ones fault." Ratburn shrugs. "It's just best for everyone."

"Take me with you." Brain pleads in a breathy voice.

Ratburn smiles regretfully. "You know I can't, Alan. I'm only taking the rest of the year off. Then, I'll see how things go after that."

"Can you take me home with you?" Brain's eyes are wide with wanting.

Ratburn smirks, pausing to regard the boy. "You don't know what you're asking."

"I wouldn't tell anyone." Brain comes closer. "We could…you could… touch me…"

Ratburn flushes deep red and shakes his head, a nervous smile on his lips. "Right." He murmurs. "That's preposterous."

"I want it."

Ratburn snorts. "You have no idea what you want – and I won't have this conversation with you any longer."

"I'm a mess." Brain says, stepping in front of the rat. "I woke up this morning with a funny feeling…and it felt right. I dreamed about you."

"Stop this, Alan." Ratburn seems shaken. "I must go now."

"I don't have a ride home." Brain says desperately. "You wouldn't just leave me here."

"I don't want you in my car – not when you're like this." Nigel's voice seems quivery with fear. "I'll call your parents and have them come and get you."

"My parents are out of town. I have a sitter at home waiting for me and she has no idea when I'll be home. We have time together – we could spend it…together."

Ratburn turns and rests against his car, staring up into the sky, pained and conflicted. It gets worse and worse with every passing moment. Dealing with this boy, dealing with himself, the fear and the need and the restraint. Why won't he just go away? Jesus Christ!

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, quiet, resigned. "I'll take you home, but you have to swear to me you will respect my boundaries." He continues to stare up into the sky, watching as the first streaks of orange tint the blue afternoon sky. "I am your teacher and I am an adult. Therefore, whatever you're thinking or whatever you think you want are completely irrelevant here. You will not do anything that could be considered inappropriate and you're smart enough to know what that means, Brain." He places emphasis on the boy's nickname.

Brain shrugs, feeling as though he has won, totally blinded by his infatuation. "Fine. I understand."

"Good." Ratburn says in his brisk voice as he opens his car door. "Get in and buckle up."

As he drives, he keeps his hands firmly on the steering wheel, knuckles white as the whites of his eyes as he focuses on the road. Across from him in the passengers seat, Brain is squirming, that warm feeling low in his belly as he imagines what it would feel like to have Nigel's hands on him – not in a mentor sort of way, very different than the occasional pat on the back or shoulder or the ruffling of his hair. He imagines his hands on him, all over him, making the throbbing stop.

"Can you stop the car?" Brain finally murmurs.

Ratburn never takes his eyes off the road. "What? Why?"

"Please. I need to do something."

"Well…can't it wait?"

"I have to pee."

"Liar." Ratburn murmurs before pulling onto the shoulder of the road and coming to a slow stop.

They are on the side of the road, near the shady trees. This is a lonely road, rarely traveled and Brain knows this as he unbuckles his seat belt. Ratburn taps his foot nervously as he unlocks the car doors.

"Make it fast, Brain. Your sitter will start to worry."

Brain gets out and goes to the back of the car before sneaking around to the driver's side, throwing open the door and sliding in over Ratburn's lap.

Nigel lets out a yelp as the eleven-year-old boy suddenly straddles him. He is too shocked to even speak as Alan wraps his arms around his neck and hums softly against his neck, a warm puff of air caressing the man's goose-pimpled skin.

"Oh my God, Brain…s-stop…g-get off…" His arms are pushing the boy and pulling the boy and yet, somehow, holding the boy and hugging the boy. "…s-stop, Brain…"

The man's voice is a whimper as Brain starts to move his hips, rocking back and forth over Nigel's lap, pressing and rubbing and making the man dizzy as he tries to put up a fight – but Brain is so fierce and so strong. Oh God… why is this happening...

Brain's hands are in Ratburn's hair, anchored, digging lightly, scratching the scalp. His lips are brushing Nigel's neck, his cheek, his mouth. The man turns his head away, dizzy and terrified and helpless. Why can't he just make him stop? Why won't he end this? It would be so easy…so easy…he's just a boy…just a boy…

And with this sudden realization, Ratburn pushes the boy away from him with more force than he intended – and his hand seems to be moving independently of his thoughts as he rears back and slaps him once, then twice. Hard.

Startled and suddenly sober, Brain sinks back into his seat, eyes wide, face red as he cradles the sting with his hand. Ratburn is too shaken to even speak as he takes several deep breaths, mentally counting backward from one hundred. He rests his head back against the rest, still feeling phantom traces of Brain's nails digging through his hair. It shouldn't have felt so nice. The boy definitely _doesn't_ comprehend the concept of 'boundaries'. Nigel realizes this now as he puts the car in drive, not bothering to put on his seat belt and not bothering to speak to the boy, mortified by what has just taken place. His lips are still tingling from Brain's mouth on his and he doesn't remember having his tongue in his mouth, but somehow he tastes bubblegum. He _never_ chews bubblegum.

After a silent ride taut with tension, Nigel pulls up to the curb in front of Brain's house. The boy has been staring out the window the entire time, cradling his cheek. Nigel is angry at Brain but even angrier at himself for having lost control. This is why he is going away.

"Get out." He says quietly to the boy.

Brain hesitates briefly before opening the door. Nigel keeps his eyes forward as Brain pauses.

"I'm sorry." He says, tears filling his eyes. "I'm sorry, Nigel."

Nigel doesn't respond. Instead, he waits for the boy to close the door before he speeds off down the street, not waiting to see if the boy gets inside. He can't let himself stay attached to this boy – especially not _this_ boy. The ramifications just might consume him…just might consume them both…

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

_Okie Dokie. Firstly, I want to thank everyone for their kind words and general feedback. It really fuels my inspiration. grin I also appreciate the different opinions I get. I like feedback - good or bad. I informally dub this chapter 'cruise control' because there are so many conflicting opinions about where I should take this. I decided I should go with the minority and put on the brakes a bit. There's not a lot in this chapter, a bit of meandering and reflecting…what it boils down to is this: I have a serious decision to make… bites nails_

Nigel Ratburn pops two Valium before sinking down into his loveseat. It feels weird, not being at school on a Monday morning, but that's neither here nor there. He'd needed this time alone, to reflect and to maybe clear his head a bit.

The television is on in the background, a small, old black and white Zenith because the rat rarely watches TV so what's the point of investing in all the new fangled technology? There's some fuzzy grainy picture of Jerry Springer guests shouting bleeped swearwords and exposing their pale flabby midwestern midsections as Jerry pretends to be baffled by the absurdity of it all. The rat turns his head away in distaste, disappointed in himself for not simply turning the damned thing off.

In the kitchen, his clock on the wall ticks just a bit too loudly and the birds outside seem to be chirping right next to his ear. He resists the urge to go slam the window shut. It's ten after ten. He'd be getting ready to teach more long division right about now, enjoying the panicked looks on the faces of those who didn't study. He'd be issuing out light reprimands to the likes of Binky and Buster and perhaps be surprised at the occasional proficiency of Arthur and Muffy. He'd have an amused smirk on his face at the determination on Francine's dark features and smile contentedly at the free spirit of Sue Ellen and her understated sweetness or Prunella's odd mysticism.

The rat hates to admit he adores teaching. Somehow, it seems too cliché, too pathetic. He's actually sullen without them.

What he's purposely not thinking about, what he chooses to ignore is the aching thought of Alan Powers grating in his brain. Nigel knows it's unhealthy, but this is what the vacation is for. He's hoping the whole issue will somehow blow over, dissipate, become no more. What he doesn't admit to himself, what he keeps deep down in the vault in his heart is the fact that he likes it. He likes Brain's attention and he likes feeling wanted and he likes that someone cares about him. Sure its wrong, but love is love, right?

When Nigel goes to the front door, a lanky teen saunters by pushing a lawnmower and chewing a long blade of grass. The boy is shirtless and wears his jeans low on his hips, allowing Nigel to see an inch or so of his flannel boxers. He catches Nigel's eye before the man has a chance to dash back inside and whistles to him.

"Hey! Sir."

Ratburn considers pretending not to hear the scratchy adolescent voice, but he peeks his head out and shields his eyes from the sun with his hand.

"Yes?"

"Mow your grass? Ten bucks?"

"Uh…" Nigel takes a gander at his already neatly trimmed lawn, perfectly sculpted just yesterday morning. "…No thanks. I don't really need it."

"Then how bout some company? Its hot out here." The boy grins, and Nigel shuts his eyes, not ready to deal with this.

"I suppose it _is_ hot…for April…"

Without waiting for a reply, the boy pushes the mower onto Nigel's walk and strolls up to the door, brushing past him inside.

Nigel stands in the threshold watching the boy get comfortable on his couch. He can't imagine how he should proceed.

"Uh…aren't you also the paper boy?"

The boy nods. "Uh huh."

"Why aren't you at school?"

The boy grins at Nigel and the rat suddenly remembers another encounter similar to this over a year ago. It was this same boy, but it was cold outside, and he'd invited himself in for a hot apple cider. He'd been baffled then too and somehow must've pushed it out of his mind…until now.

"Why aren't _you_ at school?" the boy finally asks.

"Touché," Ratburn murmurs. "What's your name?"

"Jake." The boy has his eyes trained on the older man, and Nigel feels suddenly self-conscious, although he cannot imagine why. " And you're Nigel."

The rat blushes, in spite of himself. "Yes, well, I suppose you would know that…"

"I've seen your puppet shows." The boy says, looking suddenly very young. "When I went to Lakewood. They were cool."

Ratburn smiles politely. "Oh. Well. Good. I feel like a virtual celebrity."

The boy smiles a crooked smile and stands up to face the man. "You have any beer?"

Ratburn can't even remember the last time he had beer in his fridge and he scrunches his eyes at the boy. "Well, even if I did, I most certainly wouldn't offer it to you, young man."

The youth rolls his eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

"Not old enough." Ratburn moves past the boy and into the kitchen. "I have lemonade or tea. And then you should probably leave."

"I'm twenty-two years old." Jake says, smirking and perching himself on a stool in the kitchen.

"I highly doubt that." The rat says pouring lemonade into two glasses. "You're fifteen - if you're a day."

The boy turns up his glass and drinks sloppily, dripping lemonade down his chin and onto his chest. Nigel averts his eyes, determined not to stare. Instead he takes a dainty sip from his own glass before moving to the sink and tidying up nothing in particular.

"Where's your wife?" The boy asks offhandedly.

Ratburn sighs. "Surprise, surprise. I'm not married."

Jake grins. "Well, what about your girlfriend?"

"You should be leaving, Jake. I have a lot of work to do."

The boy looks momentarily crestfallen. "I had cider with you last Halloween. Do you remember? You were passing out mini Butterfingers to the trick-or-treaters. I was cold. I'd been raking leaves all day."

"Yes, I remember." Nigel says looking squarely at the boy.

Jake nods slowly. "Well, I thought maybe… if you were up for it…we could…maybe hang out sometime."

"I'm sorry, Jake. That's just not possible." Nigel feels himself getting slightly dizzy and a little hot under the collar. How does he keep getting in these situations? What is he, a boy magnet?

The boy nods, slowly. "Okay. Well. Thanks for the drink."

In a split second, Nigel has an image of himself giving in. He imagine his hands restraining small wrists above thin arms as he devours a mouth soft with peach fuzz and runs a hand down a chest too narrow to belong to a man but too big to be a mere boy. The thought makes him shudder and instantly leads to thoughts of Brain, the boy who loves him, the boy who he adores.

"Good day to you." The rat murmurs distractedly, ushering the boy out the door.

He turns on the walkway to look up into Ratburn's eyes. "My name is Jake. Maybe you'll remember next time." He pauses. "If you ever need anything – anything at all, I live four houses down. White Victorian."

"Okay. Thanks. Goodbye." The rat says briskly, closing the door.

He moves to his tiny study where it's cluttered and filled with overstacked bookshelves and marionette heads and limbs and papers and an old computer he barely even knows how to turn on. The shelves block the windows and the desk chair has a stack of unfinished manuscripts on them. The rat places the stack onto the desk and seats himself there, pondering. Will it ever go away? Does this make him a bad person? No, of course not! He hasn't done anything wrong. Since when did it become a crime to entertain a fantasy? And it didn't even start out that way. It was _Brain's_ fantasy. _Brain_ started this! Ratburn rests his head on a stack of old Reader's Digests and wearily shuts his eyes.

He vaguely recalls the conversation he'd had with Principal Haney the day he'd asked for an emergency leave of absence.

"But, Nigel, this is all so sudden. Has something happened or…"

"I'm sorry, Herbert," Ratburn had sighed, shrugging. "but the matter is rather…um…personal in nature, and I cannot really explain it without compromising myself."

"Well, how long do you plan to be gone? This isn't like you at all…"

"I know. I was thinking a few weeks – since I have so much vacation time saved up. After that, I'll keep you abreast of my plans. I just…well…something came up and I need to attend to it."

"Is your family well?" The principal had adjusted his half-moon specs and looked concerned over the top of them at his favorite instructor, Mr. Ratburn.

Ratburn had nodded. "Yes, they're quite well, indeed, sir. My sister is actually in Bermuda right now with her fiancé. I don't really have anyone else. Thank you for your concern, though…"

The principal had stared at Nigel a long time after that until finally he'd shrugged. "Fine. Well, I'll grant you your few weeks – and whatever it is that's troubling you, I hope the matter gets resolved. I should tell you, I really hate not having you on hand here. You're a very popular instructor here – with the faculty and student body alike."

"Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate that." The rat had felt relieved to be given the time off. He really hadn't wanted to resort to plan 'B' which would've involved faking an injury and getting his insurance agency involved. All that would have meant a paper trail, and walking on crutches and unanswered questions, etc…

Now as he sits at his desk, he considers Brain. If there were no laws against it, if he didn't constantly worry about not being so upstanding and right, what kind of damage could he do? What kind of harm could he inflict? Would he even be capable, if Alan were here with him now, ready and willing, unbeknownst to anyone? Would he let himself give in to the pleasure of soft vulnerable flesh, yielding and warm? The rat laughs nervously to himself. Right. Like that would ever happen…

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Across town at the Elwood City Elementary school, Mr. Haney wears a baffled expression as he sits across from a haggard looking Alan Powers with a red face and dirty hair. He wears a bruise around his left eye and his shirt is tattered and torn.

Next to him, looking somehow sour and surprised at the same time is Binky Barnes, a known bully but a decent kid nonetheless. He occasionally looks over at Alan and scrunches his eyebrows in disbelief. His nose is covered in drying blood.

"Well, one of you explain to me what happened, please." The principal almost thinks this entire scenario is a prank because it can't be what it looks like, one of the most docile creatures in the school involved in a lunchroom fight. No, this must be a joke.

"He started it!" Binky yells, pointing at Brain. "I was just standing there and he…he came up and shoved me! Right into Arthur! He made me drop my lunch!"

Brain doesn't dispute this. Instead, he simply looks down at his sneakers, an indifferent expression on his face.

"Is this true, Alan?"

Alan shrugs. "Most of it. I didn't make him drop his lunch, though. He dropped it because his hands were too big and clumsy to hold onto it."

"What did you say?" Binky stands up, balling his fists at Brain. "Say it in my face, you…you…"

Mr. Haney quickly steps between the two boys. "Alright, alright. Enough of this. Alan, what's gotten into you? I've never seen you like this."

"He teased me." Brain responds in a quiet voice. "He teased me and I retaliated."

"It sounds as though you lashed out."

"I'm the one with the black eye!" He yells suddenly.

"You made me drop my lunch!" Binky sounds more offended by that than by anything. "What could I do but defend myself – and the honor of my chili dog!"

Exasperated, Mr. Haney turns to the Bulldog. "Binky, I'll deal with you later. For now, you can return to class. I must speak to Mr. Powers alone."

"Fine." Binky pouts, giving Brain the death glare on his way out.

When the door is shut, Mr. Haney seats himself across from Alan. The boy wears an angry scowl, as he glares into space and the principal doesn't know what to make of it.

"Well, obviously something's going on to make you act this way. It's just not like you."

"I haven't been myself lately." Brain mumbles, not meeting the man's eyes.

"Well, we can certainly deal with that. You can speak to the counselor – or you can talk to me, if you like. We can even arrange a meeting with your parents, if something's going on at…"

"No!" Alan looks at the man for the first time. "No, please don't call my parents. I'll…I'll do anything."

The principal looks conflicted. "Well, I'm sorry Alan, but school policy dictates that they be notified in case of a physical altercation. Whatever's going on with you is another matter altogether. That you physically assaulted Binky Barnes…well…that must be dealt with."

Brain nods, resigned. "Fine. Call them."

"They're already on the way, son."

Hours later, Brain lies back across his bed in his dark bedroom with the curtains drawn. In the silence, he can vaguely hear his parents downstairs discussing him in hushed tones and trying to figure out what action to take. Brain knows it will involve counseling – or maybe even shock treatment. It shouldn't have gotten this far, but Binky made a nasty comment about him at lunch and that had been the final straw. He'd felt the primal urge to attack – and it had felt nice to hit him. It had felt good, knuckles on bone, crushing. He'd felt pleasure seeing the sting of tears in the big bulldog's eyes.

Alan had rode home with his parents, on his way to serving his first day of his three-day suspension. The car ride had been silent, as his parents had sat staring forward, dumbfounded.

They might be pissed, Brain had surmised, but at least this time at home would give him solitude to think of Nigel. He hadn't been able to concentrate much at school, too lost in his anxiety and fear. The other children in his class seem to be fading into the woodwork, becoming like wooden statuettes, going about their simple lives as though through water. Brain is moving so much faster than that, so far ahead of them, at the speed of light. He feels as though he is changing, becoming someone else altogether. He wonders, with a sudden jolt of inspiration, if this is what Einstein felt.

Drifting off into a fantasy, Brain's head is filled with a passing dark cloud. Why has Ratburn taken time off? Is it because of him? Duh. Of course it is! But what does this mean? Does Ratburn not want to see him again? Or has he somehow gotten him into trouble? Maybe someone saw them that day in the car…maybe Nigel has gotten sacked!

Brain sits bolt upright in his bed, staring into the dark with panicked eyes. Oh God. What has he done? The man of his dreams hates him now. Maybe if he goes to him, talks to him, he can set everything right again. – but Maybe Ratburn won't see him, won't deal with him. Maybe he's still angry about last time. Maybe he will hit him again.

Oddly, the thought both frightens and titillates the boy. The thought of physical contact makes him quiver with excitement – even violent contact. Brain makes up his mind.

Quietly, he gets off the bed and slips his sneakers onto his feet. He pulls on a light jacket and calls down to his parents that he's going to bed now. They cease their whispered conversation long enough to call goodnight up to him, and then Brain waits to hear the sound of them prattling round downstairs before he proceeds with his plan.

Stuffing pillows and his own ceramic bust underneath the sheet, he draws up the blankets to look as though he's sleeping. Then, he ties his rope ladder onto the flower box outside his window and climbs down. Hitting the damp grass, he crouches low so as not to be seen before dashing off into the dark of night.

Tbc…


	6. Chapter 6

_After many technical difficulties, Part 6_

Its dark outside in a quiet little neighborhood as Nigel Ratburn wakes with a start. The television is variations of gray snow as he wipes his eyes and sits up. This is the third night in a row that he's fallen asleep on the couch and he's mentally chastising himself for it.

His head feels foggy as he sits up and slowly gets to his feet. Some tea would be nice… or maybe an energy drink. He feels like Hell, groggy and disoriented.

In his socks and sweats, he pads into the bathroom to have a look at himself in the mirror. His eyes are shadowed with darkness, his mouth is dry and he has a new crease in his forehead. His hair is mussed and he doesn't look like himself – even while he convinces himself that he's doing fine.

Pulling a white t-shirt on over his slender frame, he decides to go out for a brisk walk. Stepping into sneakers, he shuts the door behind him and jogs out into the night. It seems peaceful out here tonight. The dark jogging pants shield his legs against the cool night air, but he enjoys the feel of it on his bare arms. In no time at all, however, he has slowed down to a trot, and then a walk. He's run down from worrying and finds himself circling back down the block, heading in the opposite direction.

He wonders, errantly, if the substitute teacher has been giving enough homework to his students. God knows he doesn't want them slacking off in his absence. Then, with a heavy heart, he wonders if he'll even bother returning this year. It might be better if he returns after the kids have already passed onto middle school, so he can start afresh with a new group and hopefully not have to encounter any of these same problems.

The thought enters his mind that maybe Brain has already gotten past this. Maybe the encounter they had in the car has woken the boy from his trance, broken the spell perhaps. Ratburn hadn't meant to hit the boy, but it seemed the only way. Any other contact might've been counterproductive. Nigel might've found himself wrapping his arms around the student, maneuvering him onto his back, slipping hands where they ought not to be. Nigel's head spins with every deviant thought and he picks up the pace again, forcing himself into a sprint.

The weather gets cooler as Ratburn jogs to the end of the block, stops and turns, unsure of himself. When he catches sight of the white Victorian, his breath catches in his throat. Jake's house. Jake. The boy just happens to be standing on the porch and Nigel feels his legs carrying him that way.

The boy finally catches his eye and smiles as Nigel stands several yards away.

"Hi." He calls to him.

"Hello, Jake." Nigel feels his hands sweating as he looks up at the star-filled sky. "Nice night."

"Yeah. Its cool out here." He studies the man standing on the walk and grins. "Wanna see something?"

Ratburn shrugs, shocked by his own response. "Alright."

He mindlessly follows the boy behind the house, through overgrown brush and weeds until he shows him the tree house in the back yard.

"Its up there." Jake says, looking expectantly at Nigel. "What I want you to see."

For the first time, the teacher has doubts. "I don't know if I should. Couldn't you…bring it down?"

Jake shakes his head. "It'll only take a second."

Nigel watches the boy climb the rope ladder, hesitating briefly before following. In his mind, he feels as if he's giving in to his private desires, even climbing the rope – as though he's climbing towards damnation. But the boys is so inviting. It's like having Brain, in a sense. Having him with no strings attached. He doesn't care for Jake like he cares for Alan. It's simply not the same.

Inside the dark wooden room, Jake lights a candle and Nigel stands as far away as possible. He doesn't know what to expect.

"Its in here." Jake kneels before a little treasure chest and unlocks it slowly, turning his bright eyes towards the man. "I wanted to show you – but I haven't ever shown anyone else. My mom wouldn't understand – and my dad would think its gay."

Nigel flinches at his use of the word. "What is it?"

The boy exhales deeply before pulling out a crude, homemade marionette. It's long and lopsided and wearing tattered doll clothing with ink drawn facial features and glued on hair. A complete novice has sewed on its limbs and there are bits of string hanging off of it.

"Don't laugh." Jake says, his adolescent voice breaking. "I made it."

Nigel comes closer, taking the horrid looking thing into his arms as though it were the holiest artifact he has ever held. "It's… beautiful…"

"Don't make fun." Jake says, blushing. "It took me forever to make."

"I like it." Nigel inspects it. "Do you…put on shows?"

"Not yet." Jake says, running a hand through his mussed dark hair. "But I've been practicing. I thought maybe you could… I dunno…show me."

Nigel nods, emphatically. "I'd be delighted."

"Good." The boy says, and Nigel feels somewhat foolish for having expected anything else. Even though, deep down he knows he never would have done anything, the thought still had crossed his mind. He'd been sort of hoping for an opportunity and that realization makes him feel guilty and dirty.

"I should go." Nigel says softly, starting down the rope ladder. "Its late."

"You don't have to leave." Jake says, his long lashes seemingly fluttering in the moonlight. "I…want you to stay."

"I can't." Nigel says, lowering himself down to the ground. "Your parents wouldn't approve of me being here, I'm sure."

"My parents don't care." Jake says once he has lowered himself down as well. He is standing facing the man. "My parents don't give a damn what I do."

Nigel looks squarely at the boy. "Are things really that bad?"

Jake shrugs. "What difference does it make?" He reaches out slowly to touch the man's shirt, as if making sure he's still here. "You're right. I'm fifteen."

"Don't do that." Nigel says in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I know what you want. I can see it in your eyes." Jake sighs, feeling Nigel's heat through his cotton t-shirt. "I've seen that look before. You're not the first man who wanted me."

"I'm not like them." Nigel steps away from the boy, feeling quite certain that he is, in fact, like all those other men – just better at restraining himself – but for how long? "I have to go now, have to go…home…"

"You don't have to go." Jake says, licking his lips. "Of all the men who've wanted me, you're the only one I ever really wanted back."

"I appreciate your…candor…Jake, but…" Ratburn pauses, needing an escape route. "I'm not like that. Not like this."

Jake smiles. "You might like it."

Nigel imagines this is precisely what he's afraid of and backs away from the youth, before turning his footfalls into a sprint and dashing back down the block towards his own house.

It has started to rain, lightly, but Nigel doesn't care. He feels as though something profound is happening to him, something beyond his control. He doesn't know how long he can fight it and this scares the hell out of him. Why couldn't it stay deep down inside, dormant forever? Why did it have to surface in this manner? How did it come to this and where will it lead? Stuff like this always starts out so innocent – like an adolescent crush or mere fleeting thoughts. Next thing you know, you're being fired and splattered all over the media for having committed unthinkable crimes. Nigel never wanted that. He never wanted to be one of those people, but here he is battling his thoughts for peace inside his own head.

He imagines God is looking down on him with angry eyes and he goes to stand beneath a tree, pressed flat against the rough bark, feeling the wind chill him to his core as rain washes down his face and he starts to shudder. Where did the tears come from?

His body is suddenly wracked with uncontrollable sobs as he curses himself for being like this – and all the while, through his misty blurring eyes, he can make out the small figure approaching. The boy he wishes had never existed – if only it would mean serenity for them both.

He jogs up, face streaming with rain and reaches out a hand to the man before him, his teacher, his mentor, his friend, a broken unstable shell of the man he thought he knew.

Silently, Nigel takes the boy's hand and lets him lead him to his house. His chest is heaving with ragged breathing as he struggles for breath through the tears and the rain, but Alan seems so sure of himself, so intent upon his goal.

They reach the house and Nigel pauses on the step as Alan opens the door for him and tugs him inside by his shirt. He closes the door behind them and pulls the man inside, leading him to the couch. Nigel's eyes are red and he's soaked through to the bone. His chest is rising and falling unsteadily as the boy lowers him down gently.

Nigel shuts his eyes as he rests his head back against the cushion and Alan goes through Ratburn's house, in search of a dry towel. When he comes back, he perches on the edge and starts to run the towel along the man's brow, down his face and up to his hair. His hands are so gentle and Nigel is reluctant to look at him, ashamed and afraid.

"It's all my fault." Alan finally says softly. "I shouldn't have… said anything…"

Nigel doesn't respond, not trusting his voice, so Alan continues.

"I can make it go away. We can pretend it never happened. Then you won't have to hate me…"

"On the contrary…" Nigel's voice cracks as he starts to protest. "…I…adore you, Alan."

Alan's eyes are wide and child-like as they light up with joy. "Really?"

"Yes." Nigel says. "Yes, a thousand times."

"Then why did you leave?" Alan asks softly.

Ratburn shakes his head. "I had to. Don't you understand that I had to?"

Alan looks down at the floor, unsure. "Maybe you didn't have to. Maybe we could have worked it out."

"No." Ratburn says quietly. "There's nothing to work out, Alan. Anything I do will be wrong – and anything you do will be forgiven because… because you're a child."

"Why does it have to be that way?" Alan looks angry. "It's not black and white!"

"But it is." Nigel says, resisting the urge to touch the boy who sits so close, the boy whose thigh is right against his, warming him.

"But I love you." Alan says in a strong voice. "I love you, Nigel."

The rat rests his head back against the cushions and shuts his eyes. Those three little words, passed from such innocent lips can so easily undo him. He covers his face with his hands, but smaller hands come up to remove them, to push them away.

"Look at me." He whispers in such a grown-up voice that Nigel has no choice but to comply.

The boy then bends over him, so slowly, so cautiously, as though Ratburn were a frightened deer that might flee at any moment. And he's partially correct because Nigel isn't sure how to react, where to go as soft lips meet his, tentatively. He feels a jolt of electricity up his spine as he tastes the boy, for the first time really, lets himself taste. God, its so good, so real and so pure.

He shifts a bit, but Alan's arms are on either side of him, imprisoning him where he is as those lips come down for another taste, this time a tongue taste, gently probing Nigel's mouth. What can the rat do but comply? Their tongues touch and Alan whimpers, a high pitched noise in the back of his throat as Nigel moans softly, knowing with every fiber of his being that he should stop this and stop it at once, but powerless. The boy has him under his spell.

"Stop…" He whispers, hands clutching the couch cushions as Alan kisses him again, licks his lips, licks his tongue. "…stop it, Alan…" He groans, knowing that if it doesn't end soon, it will never end.

Small hands caress Nigel's face and hair, brushing digits along the bridge of his nose, down his cheek, along his chin and up to his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again. The boy is so skilled at this, so masterful. Ratburn feels dizzy, as if he's falling – and not just from grace. From the edge of the world. Alan's hands rest on the man's belly feeling the twitching muscles there, the nervousness threatening to consume him if the arousal doesn't get him first. Alan has never been this far with anyone and isn't even sure what all it entails. He knows what he wants, to touch and be touched, to feel that warm release that comes from stroking until there's nothing left but to come damn near to dying.

He wonders errantly if Nigel is warm for him as he is for Nigel, if that heavy feeling is inside him too.

Experimentally, he reaches down to rest his hand in his teacher's lap, to feel his crotch, to caress it, but Nigel's hand comes up, finally, to grasp his wrist in a strong grip.

"No…enough…this is enough…" His eyes are unfocused and his face is red. His words sound slurred but somehow firm and Alan knows not to pursue it any farther.

"I just thought…" Alan's voice is a breath. "…I just thought you might…like it."

"You don't need to touch me there to have that answer." Nigel says softly, still holding firm to the boy's wrist. "It would be easier – for both of us – if you just asked me."

Alan blushes deeply and grins devilishly. "Do you like it?"

Nigel hesitates, knowing what the answer will mean, knowing it will be a final admission of guilt. Raising his eyes and nodding slowly, he smiles sadly.

"Yes, Alan. Yes, I like it." He pauses, letting out a soft mirthless laugh. "I like it a lot."

Alan feels satisfied as he leans over to wrap his arms around the man's neck, burying his face against his shoulder. "Then you love me too…"

Nigel doesn't answer, but there is some truth to the boy's words. There is some truth, indeed…

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

_The final chapter. I don't know if I mentioned this earlier, but:_

_Disclaimer: Arthur and all of its characters and subsidiaries (except for "Jake") are property of Mark Brown and/or PBS inc.__This story is fiction and no copyright infringement was intended. I am making no profit from this. No animals were harmed during the writing of this fic. Supplies are limited. Results may vary._

Brain wakes in the morning to find himself in a warm tangle of blankets and pillows, horizontal patterns shining down on him from the window blinds. He opens his eyes slowly and watches silently as Ratburn moves to the kitchen to stir creamer into his coffee.

Brain can see the new lines around the man's eyes and across his forehead as he chews nervously on his lip, not noticing Brain's following eyes. Aside from the worry etched on his features, Nigel looks peaceful and natural here, in his own house, wearing sweatpants and t-shirt and pro-socks. Brain smiles as he watches him scratch his unshaven chin absently.

"Good morning." Brain says softly, his voice ringing in the silence of dawn.

Ratburn seems to have forgotten he wasn't alone as he meets the boy's eyes from across the room, looking slightly startled.

"Yes, good morning to you." He says, his voice groggy and thick. "Did you sleep well?"

Brain sits up a bit. "I don't remember." He smiles.

Ratburn returns the smile, turning his eyes downward, feeling somehow simultaneously ashamed and gleeful.

"Are you hungry?" Ratburn starts opening and closing cupboard doors. "I may have some bran flakes or… granola…"

"I'm fine." Alan says, watching the man's back as he searches for something. "I was hoping we could…maybe…talk."

Ratburn hesitates before meeting the boy's steady gaze again. He shrugs. "Yes, I suppose that would be fine."

He brings his mug over to the couch and perches on the edge, as far from the boy as humanly possible. Brain watches him curiously, hands itching to touch him again, but knowing it won't be received the same way.

"My offer still stands." Brain says in a strong voice. "We can pretend nothing ever happened. That way, you can return to school and everything can be like it was."

Ratburn looks down into his muddy coffee. "Brain, it'll never be like it was. I don't know why you can't grasp that."

"It can be like it was…" he repeats himself. "…just give it a try."

"No." Ratburn says, taking a sip of his warm java. "Lets do this my way."

"And what way is that?"

Nigel hesitates before turning to the Brain. "I'm going to turn in my resignation tomorrow to Mr. Haney."

"No." Alan looks crestfallen. "You can't. Please…"

"It's the only way." Ratburn shrugs. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to deal with…this."

"Fine." Alan says. "Then I'll transfer schools. I'll tell my parents I need a different environment. Just…don't leave. They need you there. They don't need me."

"That's where you're wrong, Alan." Ratburn tries to level with the boy. "They're your friends. They'll miss you. You're a vital part of the group. I'm just a teacher."

Alan feels himself welling up with anger as he tosses back the blankets and stands. "How can you be like this? We didn't even _do_ anything!"

"We did enough." Ratburn murmurs in a sober voice. "It's better this way, believe me."

"No! I will _not_ believe you!"

"Apparently, I overestimated you, Alan." Ratburn says wearily.

"Oh yeah?" The boy says, balling his fists. "How so?"

"I've always given you credit for being so much more mature – and here, you're behaving exactly like what you are. A child."

"You bastard…" Brain breathes. "I hate you!"

The boy suddenly jumps on the man, hitting him in the chest with blow after blow as Ratburn tries to push the boy off of him, lingering someplace between fury and hysterical laughter. Had he never witnessed this display, he'd have never thought the Brain capable.

"Get off, you!" Nigel says, wrestling the boy onto his back. "Stop this…"

Brain wraps his legs around Ratburn, trying to kick him and hurt him but failing miserably as Ratburn grabs his wrists and holds them down easily. Brain struggles, his youthful vigor nearly getting the best of Nigel's steady, aged strength.

"Damn you…" Brain shouts, still struggling, twisting from side to side as Ratburn holds him down with his hands and with his body.

"I don't want to hurt you." Ratburn says in an amused voice. "But you're leaving me no choice."

"I hate you so much!" Brain says in a defeated voice. "Everyone hates you!"

"Yes, I know." Ratburn says, smirking. "I've heard it all before."

"You're a miserable bastard!"

"Uh huh…"

"Who gives too much homework!" The Brain groans, a last ditch effort to break free of Ratburn's strong grip.

"Do I, really?"

"Yeah!" Brain stops struggling. "Yea…" He tightens his legs around the man over him, licking his lips. "You give way too much homework."

Nigel smiles at the boy, thinking him adorable. "I do it to help you."

"I don't care about that." Alan murmurs. "Kiss me."

Nigel swallows, hard, their faces inches apart. "No." He says, bending his head low, lips so close he can inhale Brain's exhale.

"Please." Alan tries to reach up, to meet Nigel's lips with his own. "Oh God, please…"

Nigel shuts his eyes, willing himself not to do it. "No, Alan…I…I can't…we can't do this…"

With great difficulty, he pushes himself off the couch as Alan's legs fall apart, allowing the man up. Alan's eyes shut as he silently curses Ratburn.

"I'm going to call your parents and…loosely…explain the situation." Ratburn straightens his shirt, absently smoothing his clothes as he begins to pace. "Then I'm going to arrange a meeting with them and with Haney and tell them everything that has transpired."

"Don't do that." Brain says. "They'll blame you when it was all my fault. I'm begging you not to."

"I'm to blame for this. I let it get too far. I kissed you. I… _hit_ you."

"I wanted it. I forced you."

"I'm going to call them now."

"No." Alan shakes his head. "I'll go home and explain it to them. You arrange the meeting with Haney – but let me deal with my parents my own way. I swear to you I'll handle everything."

Ratburn considers this, feeling somewhat relieved about not having to deal with Brain's parents straight away, but wondering if maybe he shouldn't prolong the inevitable. They'll want answers sooner or later.

"Fine, Alan." Ratburn nods. "Do what you want."

"Really?" Alan smirks.

Ratburn shrugs, resigned. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."

Alan grins as he approaches the man and stands on tiptoe, tugging his face down and kissing him squarely on the mouth, as Ratburn stands there dumbfounded, too shocked to react quickly enough.

"Christ!" he says, taking a step back from the boy.

"Well, you said do what I want – and I did."

"Anything but that." Ratburn touches his lips, his brows furrowed with anger.

"Well," Brain slips on his sneakers. "I knew you wouldn't kiss me goodbye, so I had to take matters into my own hands."

As the boy dashes out the door, Ratburn looks after him, a tangle of emotions too complicated to put into words.

o o o o o o o o o

The next day, Ratburn stands outside of Mr. Haney's office, nervously ringing his hands together. In this instant, he understands the anxiety that accompanies going to see the principal – especially after having committed some kind of horrible crime. He shudders at the thought. What will Haney think of him? How will he react? Will he notify the police? Or will he at least let him leave with a shred of his dignity. After all, it took every fiber of his being to resist the Brain's advances, but he did resist – for the most part. Some boundaries were crossed – but not by him. They boy did all the work, but of course, Ratburn could have put a stop to most of it, could have notified the boy's parents. This is where the lines get a little crossed because on his part, he was merely letting the fantasy unfold, certainly not playing a proactive role – but definitely not putting a stop to it.

"Nigel?"

The principal's voice breaks through Ratburn's reverie like a rusty knife.

"Mr. Haney. Hello." Ratburn wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks.

"My God, you look awful." Haney says, looking concerned over his half-moon specs. "Can I get you something? Some coffee? Tea? A Valium?"

"I'm fine." Ratburn says following the man inside his office.

"Well, I know what fine is, and it doesn't look like this." Haney closes the door behind him and regards the teacher. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I needed to talk to you…about the state of things."

"The state of things?" The bear reaches inside the candy dish on his desk and absently plucks a lemon drop, popping it into his mouth.

Nigel nods, feeling anxiety threatening to take his breath away. How does he confess to having an improper relationship with a child and make it sound 'okay'? His shirt clings to him as he begins to perspire. He must do this.

"I need to hand in my resignation." He says quickly.

Haney starts to cough as he chokes on the lemon drop, startled and reddening beneath his glasses.

"Oh my God." Nigel rushes to him. "Mr. Haney, can you breathe?"

Haney continues to sputter and choke as he bends over and Nigel, thinking quickly, slams him hard on the back, once, twice, three times until the yellow confection comes flying out and sliding across the tile floor.

The principal slumps down in his chair, the natural color returning to his cheeks as his breath begins to flow easier. His glasses are askew and Nigel hovers over him, deeply concerned.

"Mr. Haney…"

"I'm fine now…" His voice is thick as he wipes tears from his eyes. "…that was close, huh?"

Nigel goes to the water cooler and brings the man a cup of cool water as Haney drinks it down, coughing lightly to clear the phlegm.

"Okay. Well. Now that that's over…" He regards Nigel with a new light, as his savior. "What were we talking about?"

"I hesitate to say." Nigel clears his throat. "Um…I wanted to resign."

"What?" Haney looks flabbergasted. "But that's impossible. You're the best teacher I have. You like it here. You told me yourself."

"I know, sir. I do like it here – and I do appreciate having this position, but there have been things… there's been…something…"

"Yes?" Haney prods.

"Something has come up." Nigel swallows. "To tell the truth, I may not be as suited to this job as I had previously thought."

"What do you mean? You're perfect for this job! The fifth grade tests scores have gone up considerably since you've been here. We're third in the state – as far as reading goes – and climbing even higher every year. Not to mention math and science. You're the best thing to happen to this school in a while. I can't let you go that easily."

"Well, sir…" Ratburn stammers. "…you may not want me around after you hear the reason behind my decision. You see, there's this student…and…God…I don't know how to put it…"

"If there's a student here that's giving you trouble, Nigel, just let me know and we'll nip that right in the bud!"

Nigel smiles in spite of himself. God, if only he knew…

"It's not that, sir. I don't even know where to begin. It all started with…a note…"

"A note? What sort of note?"

Nigel swallows again, convulsively, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Well…it was the sort of note that… I couldn't ignore…"

"Well, what was this note? Who wrote it?"

Ratburn exhales deeply. "That's the thing, sir, it was written by…well…a student…"

"Yes, yes, a student. You already said that, Nigel…what ever became of it? This note, I mean? Maybe I should have a look at it…"

"It's not really the note that's the issue; its more an issue of how I handled it that…really might raise some eyebrows. I hadn't meant for it to happen like this, but…"

"Hadn't meant for what to happen?"

"I hadn't meant for…him to…"

"Ahh…so, it was a boy then. And what did he do? Toilet paper your tree? I'll handle it right now!"

"What? Mr. Haney, I didn't say…"

"Just give me his name, and I will get his parents on the horn and we'll deal with this, ASAP. No snot-nosed brat is gong to run my favorite teacher out of this school – not if I have anything to say about it!"

"Mr. Haney, it's not that…it's _nothing_ like that…"

"Just give me his name. Who was it, Binky Barnes? I should have expected as much!"

"No. Not even close! It was…"

"Just tell me, and I'll handle it!"

"Sir, it's…"

Just then, Brain bursts through the door with his parents in tow, and Nigel Ratburn feels the color draining from his face as they step in through the threshold. Mr. Haney wears a furrowed brow as he looks between the three of them, speechless.

"Don't accept this poor man's resignation until you've heard the whole sorted story." Mrs. Powers says, holding Brain by the shirt collar. To Ratburn's confusion, however, Brain seems to be smiling.

"It's all my fault, Mr. Haney." Alan says quietly. "I was so angry about having been suspended that I tortured Mr. Ratburn."

"You did what?" Mr. Haney asked, confused.

"Tell them about the note, son." Mr. Powers looks down at his shoes, as if ashamed at his son's behavior. "Go on, Alan, tell them."

Alan nods, not looking at Ratburn but instead focusing on Mr. Haney. "Weeks ago, I wrote a note to Mr. Ratburn, a joke note. Binky dared me to do it and I did it. I take full responsibility. It was like…a secret admirer note."

Ratburn feels his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He wonders how no one can hear it.

"This is the note you were talking about, Nigel?" Mr. Haney addresses Ratburn who has gone paper white.

He nods, slowly. "Yes. That's the note."

"Anyway, I didn't mean it. Nobody likes Ratburn so we all thought it would be funny." Alan looks at Ratburn for the first time. "I'm sorry about all the trouble it caused you. I didn't mean any harm by it. To be honest, you're the best teacher we ever had. It was stupid."

Ratburn doesn't know what to say, so he simply nods.

"We've made arrangements for Alan to finish out the rest of his elementary years in a school across town." Mrs. Powers says. "It just seems best given all he's put us through this term."

"Well…" Haney straightens his glasses. "…maybe you shouldn't be too hasty. I mean, it was just a prank, right? Nothing a few days in suspension couldn't help…"

"Actually," Brain interjects. "It'd be better if I went. I need some time away, I think. To do some growing up." He throws Ratburn a sly glance and Ratburn turns away.

"Well…if you're certain…" Haney seems disappointed, but he's really thinking about how Alan helps to reflect well on the school's overall test scores. Oh well. Que Sera…

As his parents are filing out, Brain remains behind, sitting outside Haney's office as Nigel wraps up his business.

"I would never have guessed Alan." Haney says, scratching his chin, thoughtfully. "I guess puberty hits some harder than others."

Ratburn coughs a laugh, nervously patting Haney on the back. "It seems this situation has resolved itself." He considers. "Although, I feel very responsible for the outcome."

Haney looks puzzled. "I can't imagine, why, Nigel. You did everything you could have done. You were even willing to sacrifice your position here. I'd say you went above and beyond the call of duty – to protect a student. You acted admirably as always."

"Please, sir, don't give me too much credit. I don't feel deserving of it in this instance."

Haney shrugs his shoulder, thinking people are just going crazy all over the place. "Oh well. Suit yourself. Oh – and should I presume you'll be resuming your post here – eight a.m. Monday morning?"

Nigel nods, slowly. "If that's what you wish, sir."

"I do, indeed." And the principal smiles and strolls off down the hall whistling as Brain slips inside his office, unnoticed.

"Hi."

Ratburn turns and looks down at Alan. "You didn't need to lie."

"I didn't lie." He says. "I was protecting you because I knew you wouldn't protect yourself. And it really _was_ my fault."

"I don't see it that way." Nigel exhales, slowly. "I wanted…I wanted so many things…"

"Me too." Alan says. "I guess that was the problem. I wanted too much too fast. But maybe…in time…"

"When the time comes…we'll see." Ratburn reaches down to muss the boy's hair and he giggles.

"I like you so much, Mr. Ratburn."

Ratburn closes his eyes, feeling so melancholy. "I like you too, Brain." He opens his eyes and takes a step back. "Now, you'd better go. Your parents are waiting."

Alan takes one last long look at his teacher before slipping out the door and out of Ratburn's life… but for how long?

o o o o o o o o o o

Later, at home, Nigel reclines on his porch, sipping lemonade and watching helicopters fly down from the maple trees. Ever since his talk with Haney, he hasn't felt right about anything. His entire mood has been dreary and dark. In the end, someone had to lose, and he has the weirdest impression that Brain lost the most. He keeps replaying in his mind what could have happened differently and wondering how something could have changed the outcome. Would he be in jail now if he'd confessed to sharing a romantic kiss with a student? Or possibly under the care of a psychoanalyst?

He definitely can acknowledge that he has a problem – but none of the other students affect him like Brain does. None of the other kids can influence him in that way; make him feel so warm and naughty and yet strong and wonderful all at once. No one has ever made him feel that part of himself awaken before Alan…except…maybe…

Coming down the walk, pushing an old lawnmower is the resident bad boy, Jake. He has a crooked smile and a backward cap over his unruly hair. He is shirtless, of course, and Ratburn watches as his jeans slip down below his waist revealing the slimmest torso and just the tiniest bit of dark hair leading down from his sweaty navel, that trail of blasphemy.

Ratburn stands to watch as the boy gets closer, edging nearer and nearer to Ratburn's walkway.

"Hey." Jake says, stopping to appraise the slender man on the porch who wears a slight smile and holds a glass of lemonade in his one hand.

"Thirsty?" Ratburn asks in a casual voice, extending his glass towards the boy.

"A thousand times, yes." The boy comes slowly up the steps, standing face to face with the man while he drinks from his glass, dribbling cold lemonade down his chin and chest. Ratburn openly stares.

"There's more inside." Ratburn shocks himself by murmuring, licking his lips.

Jake grins, fluttering his heavy lashes. "Are you inviting me in?"

Nigel shrugs, losing his nerve a bit. "I suppose I am…if you want to."

Jake hands the glass back to Nigel, letting their fingers brush as he smiles brightly, making a silent promise to the man before him. "I'd love to."

END


End file.
